"
"Her aunt?"
"Her mother's sister--yes. Her mother's name was Dane. Who that mother
was," said Mrs. Walraven, with spiteful emphasis, "I fancy Mr. Walraven
could tell you."
"Ah!" said her cousin, with a side-long glance, "I shouldn't wonder. I'll
not ask him, however. Proceed."
"I took to reading a novel after I came home," proceeded Mrs. Walraven,
"and my husband went to bed. I remained with my book in the drawing-room,
very much interested, until nearly midnight. I fancied all in the house
had retired; therefore, when I heard a soft rustling of silk swishing
past the drawing-room door, I was considerably surprised. An instant
later, and the house door was softly unfastened. I turned the handle
noiselessly and peeped out. There, in her pink dinner toilet, jewels and
all, was Miss Dane, stealing upstairs, and following her, this wretched,
ragged creature, Miriam."
"Well?" said the doctor.
"Well, I followed. They entered Miss Dane's chamber and closed the door.
The temptation was strong, the spirit willing, and the flesh weak. I
crouched at the key-hole and listened.
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